Let me share what is really going on. That "Not nice" post - yes, it really happend. Yes, it really bothered me. Yes, I would react the same way in other circumstances. The first time I saw Network, it really spoke to me. I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore.
In addition to having trouble getting excessive junk mail from Charter and AT&T and dealing with poor customer service and questionable business practices from myriad other companies, I also have been living in two cities for nearly a year.
I rarely wake up knowing if I am in Birmingham or Auburn. (In my defense, I also have very vivid, very possible dreams and I can sleep pretty hard, especially in the hour or so before starting to wake up.)
I want to live in Auburn. Legally, I am a resident of Auburn. The air is fresh, the people are nice, and I just feel normal when I am in Auburn. (I'm not sure which word - here or there - is appropriate. That's how confused I am.)
In Birmingham, I have to fight traffic to go anywhere. Slow drivers, impatient drivers, unaware drivers. It's really stressful. I don't know what's so complicated about the speed limit being, generally speaking, 30 in residential areas, 40 on small highways/major roads primarily zoned for commercial purposes, and 55 on the highway. I pretty much avoid the interstate at all costs. Stop signs mean stop, therefore, lack of stop signs mean to proceed. Green lights mean continue, yellow means get ready to stop, red means stop.
Just over two years ago, my favorite car ever was totaled. I was in a McDonald's drive-thru (because I was so busy it was "now or never" to get lunch, and it was the best available option), was at the window and had just gotten my drink, when I heard tires squealing and metal clanging. I looked in my rearview mirrow to see this car come around the building, and I watched until it was about to hit me, at which point, I started praying, and prepared myself for the worst. My car was pinned against the building by the car that hit me. I had moved a couple of feet forward. Thankfully, no one was seriously injured. I had just bought my first home earlier in the week, and was distracted with other, more serious problems, which I can't talk about because some people would be very angry with me. So, scared, stunned, distracted, dazed, shocked, etc. me just kind of doesn't react to the situation. I was the last person to be interviewed by the police, I was the last person involved in the accident to be towed, and I never got to eat my lunch because it got cold by the time I was able to. I was covered in shards of glass and Coke. I had not had a chance to shower before I left the house because I hadn't gotten my gas turned on yet and was out of what was left of the hot water in the tank.
Of course, the person who hit me did not have insurance. They didn't even have a drivers license. And, of course, it wasn't even their car they were driving.
I did have insurance, so my insurance company took care of me. But the thing is, I couldn't buy a car that was equal to mine prior to it being totaled.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Not Nice
I've been dealing with really rude people all my life, and as I get older, it has only gotten worse. And, y'all, the number one reason for me deciding to move to Auburn was the people are nice. Seriously.
Lately though, I don't know if it's my hormones (not pregnant, just got some wacky hormone levels going on) or if it really is worse, but I have NOT been faring well when I've had to be in Birmingham (which could also factor in).
Let's start with AT&T. A couple of months ago some AT&T guy came to my door with a survey of sorts to try to figure out why more people in my Birmingham neighborhood have Bright House as opposed to AT&T. I told him, very nicely, that I choose not to support AT&T because I do not like their business practices. First, they outsource. Second, back before AT&T took over BellSouth, I had DSL and a land line in Auburn. When I moved back to Birmingham, I transferred my DSL to my mother's house. I didn't have any problems until I started receiving mail at my mother's house about my service at my old Auburn apartment (at least once a week, by the way). I tried to get off that mailing list and explain the situation, but I was told that was impossible. The last person I left a message with never returned my calls. Third, back in the '80's, AT&T promoted a bunch of men, then promoted women to fill the men's previous jobs, then cut out the position the women had gotten promoted to. I also hear that even though AT&T supposedly has a commitment to diversity, their business practices (and past) say otherwise. The guy at my doorstep vouched for AT&T saying that he did know African Americans who work with him. I told him diversity was about more than African Americans. He said he would get me off the mailing list. He didn't.
So, fastforward a little, and I realized I was going to have to either suffer without internet or cave in and get AT&T in Auburn ('cause I fired Charter down there for, you guessed it, poor customer service). I tried twice, with my girl, Girl Tuesday, as a witness, and all I got was more ammunition against AT&T. They were going to charge me way more than the advertised price for DSL.
I'm not even going to go there why I fired Charter. If you live in Auburn, Charter internet is pretty hit and miss. And the customer service is TERRIBLE.
Around the same time of the AT&T disaster, I realized my Macy's credit card bill had not been properly credited. If you have a Macy's credit card, you might know what I'm talking about here, so just go on to the next paragraph if you do. (If you don't, read this paragraph so you're aware of what happens.) Okay. So, when you get a Macy's credit card, you get a Macy's Visa, but it's actually a store account and a Visa. Same account number, two separate accounts. Tricky, huh? Well, when I paid my store account, it credited to my Visa, which I have never used (to this day). I tried calling customer service and I couldn't get through to the (outsourced) "customer service" person. I hung up. I went to the store to try to get it straightened out, and I was told to call customer service, but the NICE store clerk did call for me to try to straighten it out. She was told that I DO use my Macy's Visa. I called bullshit, thanked her for her assistance, and left. I called customer service again, had the same issues with communication, and finally got to someone who understood and somewhat spoke English. She just didn't enunciate very clearly. Girl Tuesday put that notion in my head, about how the woman should enunicate. So, when all was said and done, and she asked if there was anything else, I told her I did not like their outsourcing, their separate accounts for one account number, and how horrible the customer service was. She said I needed to tell that to someone else. So, I did something I really don't do very often, contrary to what my family thinks (they really have very little faith in me), and I yelled at her, "There is this thing called enunciation, and YOU need to learn how to do it!" and I hung up the phone and promptly left for Happy Hour.
That should have been strikes one, two, and three for Macy's, but I love that store, y'all. (Except for some of the hideous plus size clothes and the ever-shrinking women's department.) I love the home store. And the jewelry. Oh. My. Soul. Love it!
Two weeks ago, Girl Tuesday and I were in there, patiently waiting in line to ask for help since no one else was around to help us. You know what happened? The clerk took the woman who popped up "in line" after me. So, I just walked out of the store talking loudly about how upset I was.
Today, y'all, same thing happened, only at the purse counter.
Strike three.
The card is getting cancelled tomorrow.
To make things worse, my grandmother is in the hospital this week, and she has not had a pleasant hospital experience. The aides and nurses have been slow, short, and unprofessional with her.
So, consider yourselves warned, I'm disregarding Emily Post until this rude mess blows over, and I will not hesitate to call you out if you're being mean.
Better yet, I enourage y'all to be nice. My friend Melissa always says, "you never know what kind of day someone is having." She says this as her reason for being nice to others. So, be nice. You never know what kind of day someone is having.
Lately though, I don't know if it's my hormones (not pregnant, just got some wacky hormone levels going on) or if it really is worse, but I have NOT been faring well when I've had to be in Birmingham (which could also factor in).
Let's start with AT&T. A couple of months ago some AT&T guy came to my door with a survey of sorts to try to figure out why more people in my Birmingham neighborhood have Bright House as opposed to AT&T. I told him, very nicely, that I choose not to support AT&T because I do not like their business practices. First, they outsource. Second, back before AT&T took over BellSouth, I had DSL and a land line in Auburn. When I moved back to Birmingham, I transferred my DSL to my mother's house. I didn't have any problems until I started receiving mail at my mother's house about my service at my old Auburn apartment (at least once a week, by the way). I tried to get off that mailing list and explain the situation, but I was told that was impossible. The last person I left a message with never returned my calls. Third, back in the '80's, AT&T promoted a bunch of men, then promoted women to fill the men's previous jobs, then cut out the position the women had gotten promoted to. I also hear that even though AT&T supposedly has a commitment to diversity, their business practices (and past) say otherwise. The guy at my doorstep vouched for AT&T saying that he did know African Americans who work with him. I told him diversity was about more than African Americans. He said he would get me off the mailing list. He didn't.
So, fastforward a little, and I realized I was going to have to either suffer without internet or cave in and get AT&T in Auburn ('cause I fired Charter down there for, you guessed it, poor customer service). I tried twice, with my girl, Girl Tuesday, as a witness, and all I got was more ammunition against AT&T. They were going to charge me way more than the advertised price for DSL.
I'm not even going to go there why I fired Charter. If you live in Auburn, Charter internet is pretty hit and miss. And the customer service is TERRIBLE.
Around the same time of the AT&T disaster, I realized my Macy's credit card bill had not been properly credited. If you have a Macy's credit card, you might know what I'm talking about here, so just go on to the next paragraph if you do. (If you don't, read this paragraph so you're aware of what happens.) Okay. So, when you get a Macy's credit card, you get a Macy's Visa, but it's actually a store account and a Visa. Same account number, two separate accounts. Tricky, huh? Well, when I paid my store account, it credited to my Visa, which I have never used (to this day). I tried calling customer service and I couldn't get through to the (outsourced) "customer service" person. I hung up. I went to the store to try to get it straightened out, and I was told to call customer service, but the NICE store clerk did call for me to try to straighten it out. She was told that I DO use my Macy's Visa. I called bullshit, thanked her for her assistance, and left. I called customer service again, had the same issues with communication, and finally got to someone who understood and somewhat spoke English. She just didn't enunciate very clearly. Girl Tuesday put that notion in my head, about how the woman should enunicate. So, when all was said and done, and she asked if there was anything else, I told her I did not like their outsourcing, their separate accounts for one account number, and how horrible the customer service was. She said I needed to tell that to someone else. So, I did something I really don't do very often, contrary to what my family thinks (they really have very little faith in me), and I yelled at her, "There is this thing called enunciation, and YOU need to learn how to do it!" and I hung up the phone and promptly left for Happy Hour.
That should have been strikes one, two, and three for Macy's, but I love that store, y'all. (Except for some of the hideous plus size clothes and the ever-shrinking women's department.) I love the home store. And the jewelry. Oh. My. Soul. Love it!
Two weeks ago, Girl Tuesday and I were in there, patiently waiting in line to ask for help since no one else was around to help us. You know what happened? The clerk took the woman who popped up "in line" after me. So, I just walked out of the store talking loudly about how upset I was.
Today, y'all, same thing happened, only at the purse counter.
Strike three.
The card is getting cancelled tomorrow.
To make things worse, my grandmother is in the hospital this week, and she has not had a pleasant hospital experience. The aides and nurses have been slow, short, and unprofessional with her.
So, consider yourselves warned, I'm disregarding Emily Post until this rude mess blows over, and I will not hesitate to call you out if you're being mean.
Better yet, I enourage y'all to be nice. My friend Melissa always says, "you never know what kind of day someone is having." She says this as her reason for being nice to others. So, be nice. You never know what kind of day someone is having.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Oh, Boys
I've been having boy problems lately. (Perhaps, lately is an understatement ...)
It seems that my old next door neighbor only thinks of me when I'm in Birmingham. Let me just put this out there: he's in Auburn, not only does he know where I live, he's been to my place in Auburn, and he knows my car. Last week, I was sleeping away, minding my own business, when I hear my phone whistlin' at me. "What's up" he says. "Not much [lie]. You?" I respond. "Same here. Just thinking about you."
The nineteen-year-old me would have thought, "Awww. How sweet."
The jaded me thinks, "Why do you do this when I'm not in Auburn?" and then the Black Eyed Peas start floatin' through my mind. When the phone rings at two in the morning it only means one thing, baby.
So, do I channel the former me or stick to the BEPs?
I say there are only two people who can get away with calling me in the middle of the night. He's one of them. The other, he's sleeping. Why can't my dear former neighbor learn to do that? (Seriously, if you need someone to talk to in the middle of the night. Or take you to the hospital. Or bail you out of jail, but only if it's some trumped up charge or for a good cause - I'll be there for you. 'Cause I'm nice like that.)
In other boy news, The ex-Boyfriend was in true form yesterday. He was over to pick up his cats, as divided per the verbal break-up agreement, after being out of town for a week.
First, I asked if I gave him my old quilt. It's basically a navy blue, was on my bed for a few months, and is not the gray comforter he has. I made that very clear.
He SO brought over the gray comforter.
"I vaguely remember something other than white," was his response when I tried to explain for the ga-zillionth time what I was looking for.
Then, I noticed little Zoe has a crab claw growing out of her front right paw.
He seemed to be under the impression that cats' nails molt. No they don't. So, Zoe-cat stayed with her mommy an extra night so I could drop her off at the vet this morning.
In conclusion, my old neighbor needs to make a point to text me in the middle of the night when I'm in AUBURN and The ex-Boyfriend needs to learn the difference between gray and blue and a comforter and a quilt. (I think he's been schooled on the nature of cat nails.) And even though he has those moments all the time, The ex-Boyfriend is a much more reliable pick to keep company with than the old neighbor. Someone better man-up before I go back to the familiar four-year-long road I had with The ex-Boyfriend.
It seems that my old next door neighbor only thinks of me when I'm in Birmingham. Let me just put this out there: he's in Auburn, not only does he know where I live, he's been to my place in Auburn, and he knows my car. Last week, I was sleeping away, minding my own business, when I hear my phone whistlin' at me. "What's up" he says. "Not much [lie]. You?" I respond. "Same here. Just thinking about you."
The nineteen-year-old me would have thought, "Awww. How sweet."
The jaded me thinks, "Why do you do this when I'm not in Auburn?" and then the Black Eyed Peas start floatin' through my mind. When the phone rings at two in the morning it only means one thing, baby.
So, do I channel the former me or stick to the BEPs?
I say there are only two people who can get away with calling me in the middle of the night. He's one of them. The other, he's sleeping. Why can't my dear former neighbor learn to do that? (Seriously, if you need someone to talk to in the middle of the night. Or take you to the hospital. Or bail you out of jail, but only if it's some trumped up charge or for a good cause - I'll be there for you. 'Cause I'm nice like that.)
In other boy news, The ex-Boyfriend was in true form yesterday. He was over to pick up his cats, as divided per the verbal break-up agreement, after being out of town for a week.
First, I asked if I gave him my old quilt. It's basically a navy blue, was on my bed for a few months, and is not the gray comforter he has. I made that very clear.
He SO brought over the gray comforter.
"I vaguely remember something other than white," was his response when I tried to explain for the ga-zillionth time what I was looking for.
Then, I noticed little Zoe has a crab claw growing out of her front right paw.
He seemed to be under the impression that cats' nails molt. No they don't. So, Zoe-cat stayed with her mommy an extra night so I could drop her off at the vet this morning.
In conclusion, my old neighbor needs to make a point to text me in the middle of the night when I'm in AUBURN and The ex-Boyfriend needs to learn the difference between gray and blue and a comforter and a quilt. (I think he's been schooled on the nature of cat nails.) And even though he has those moments all the time, The ex-Boyfriend is a much more reliable pick to keep company with than the old neighbor. Someone better man-up before I go back to the familiar four-year-long road I had with The ex-Boyfriend.
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